French Lessons,Vol 3: I Have Dreamt of You So Much
by Fleur27
Summary: Julie Taylor might be book-smart, but she has a lot to learn when it comes to guys. Will Tim teach her, or would that be too complicated?


**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything here****and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.**

**Author's Note: Thank you all for the sweet and thoughtful reviews on the last two stories. I'm glad that you've been enjoying them.**

**This story takes place before and during Season 3, in the period before Episode 8. I've taken some liberties again: Tami is still just a guidance counselor and the relationships are somewhat different. **

**I thought this was going to be the last story in this series, but then I got a few more ideas and know that there will be two more. (Believe me though, that'll be it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to realistically and originally work old French poetry into fanfic? :)) **

**So, I hope you enjoy (and review :)) this one.**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_The Fourth of July_

Tim sat on a low stone bench near the edge of the stone patio. He could see the party spilling out of the house, across the patio and down the yard to the edge of the lake. Someone had built a bonfire near the lake and it burned bright and strong. Although the sun had recently set, the air was still hot and muggy.

He didn't know whose house this was, built in the sprawling no-man's land between Dillon and Barton. It reminded Tim of a greenhouse, with floor to ceiling windows spanning the length of the back of the house. He liked that he could see the party without having to be right in the middle of it.

He'd watched Bradley pour two bottles of 151 rum into the punch bowl, so he was sticking to cans of beer from the case he had in his truck. Crushing an empty can, Tim opened a fresh one just as Jason arrived.

"Jay Six, good to see you. Didn't think you were going to make it," said Tim, handing him the open beer.

"Yeah, well, I practically had to park in the next county." Jason wheeled around so he was sitting next to Tim, then took the beer.

Tim opened another beer and took a sip. He was quiet for a moment as he spotted Lyla and that Christianson guy in the house, talking at the edge of the party.

"Timmy, please tell me you're not stalking her again."

"Six, I'm not stalking her."

"You going to her church every Sunday, taking a show at that radio station....you don't find that at least a little stalker-y?"

"Maybe I just found the Lord, Six. You ever think of that?"

"No, Riggs," laughed Jason. "That would be about the last thing I would think of."

"She's going to break up with him soon," said Tim with quiet confidence.

"Oh yeah? Did you hear that from her?"

"Kinda. Look at her – she can't even look him in the eye. And that smile, right there, that's her fake I'm-just-being-nice smile," said Tim, gesturing with his beer can.

Jason shook his head. "Okay, Genius. Say she does break up with Chris. Then what?"

"I dunno. Haven't thought that far ahead," said Tim with a sigh, brushing the hair off his face.

"Timmy, that's what it's going to say on your tombstone. 'Here lies Tim Riggins. He didn't think that far ahead,'"said Jason, flashing his crooked grin.

Tim returned the smile weakly before returning to people-watching, forcing his eyes to leave Lyla and scan through the small knots of people standing near the windows. Soon, he found himself watching Julie, Matt, and Landry.

While Jason complained about the latest idiot thing Herc had done, Tim watched Landry gesture expansively. Matt was shaking his head and laughing while Julie looked faintly amused. She was sipping from a red Solo cup, which Tim hoped, for her sake, was not full of the spiked punch.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" asked Jason.

"Yeah, Herc's an idiot and you wish you could afford your own place."

Jason shook his head and looked at the spot that had captured Tim's attention

"Oh, no, Timmy, please don't tell me –"

"Nah, it's not like that. We're just friends, is all," interrupted Tim, not sure if any of that was true.

They both watched as Julie said something, then bumped into Matt, who tried to tickle her while she fended him off, laughing. They didn't look together-together, but definitely seemed headed in that direction.

Then Landry said something that caused Julie to stop laughing. She shrugged awkwardly and said something, her lips moving quickly. Matt gave Landry a dirty look, but Landry seemed unfazed, maybe even little pleased that he'd upset Julie. Tim watched as she downed the rest of the cup, then walked away from the two boys. Instead of heading for a refill, she went outside and stalked toward the bonfire.

"Do me a favor?" asked Tim, standing up from the bench and nodding in the direction of Matt.

"Are you kidding me? You want me to run interference for you so you can go hit on the Coach's daughter?"

"No, Six, I want you to run interference for me so I can make sure my friend is okay. That's all."

"Go," sighed Jason, wheeling himself toward the back door. "Go before I change my mind."

Tim smiled and wound his way through the crowd standing on the patio. A pack of rally girls tried to waylay him, but he'd just given them his best smile and vague promises to catch up with them later.

He found Julie sitting on a log near the bonfire, her elbows resting on her knees and her head in her hands.

"Hey, Taylor," said Tim, sitting down on the ground next to her. He bent his knees and rested his forearms on them, holding his beer can in both hands.

"Oh, hi," said Julie, pulling herself together.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," said Julie quickly, but it seemed more to Tim like that was just wishful thinking.

He looked out across the dark, calm surface of the lake. He turned the can around in his hands and tried to think of what to say next.

"Can I ask you a question?" asked Julie suddenly.

"You know you can," replied Tim.

"OK, well, uh," said Julie, stumbling around as she tried to find conversational footing. "Sex....is it...I mean, you have a lot of experience, so.....is it just one body part going into another body part or is it more than that?"

Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I guess it depends. Can be, sometimes. But other times, it's a lot more than that."

"So it depends on what, how you feel about the other person?"

"Yeah, I guess that would be the main thing."

"And does...uh....how much experience you have, does that have anything to do with it?"

Tim shrugged. "I don't know what you're asking. If you're asking does it mean less the more you do it, I'd still say it depends on who you're doing it with."

"And what about like the first time versus the second time? I mean like with different people, not the same person." Julie rubbed her temples like she was trying to ward off a headache.

"What's this all about, Taylor?" asked Tim.

"Landry, in his typical....._Landry_ way has just informed me that Matt slept with Carlotta. And, I guess I knew, but I didn't really want to know, you know?" She paused and looked up at Tim, who nodded. He knew all about not wanting to know.

"Maybe it was stupid, but, ...well.. maybe I'd been hoping the last few months that I still had a chance, that we'd be each other's firsts, but now that's not possible."

"You mean you and him didn't?"

"No. Why? Did he say–"

Tim shook his head as he interrupted her. "Not at all. He didn't say anything. But y'all went out for almost a year. I just figured...."

"No....I never really felt quite ready. Now though, maybe I regret that."

"No regrets, Taylor. You got all the time in the world. Trust me on this," he said, holding her gaze.

She blushed, but didn't look away. Tim could feel something changing, like a door had creaked open. He knew it, but he couldn't walk through it. She was still the Coach's daughter. And, more than that, she seemed just too......young, innocent, good for him. It would be unduly complicated.

Tim looked up and saw Matt headed toward them. He looked away, to a nearby cluster of rally girls. He made eye contact with one of them and smiled, knowing that she'd soon be over to give him an escape from what was sure to be an awkward conversation.

"Julie, I been looking for you all over,"said Matt.

"Well, here I am," replied Julie, looking up at him.

"That was just Landry....being Landry, you know. Don't listen to him. He's an idiot," said Matt, sitting down beside her.

Right on schedule, Kate the rally girl arrived.

"Hi, Tim," she said with a slow-burning smile, which Tim returned. She held a hand out to him to help him up from the ground. He took her hand and stood up, pulling her close.

"We'll leave you two alone," said Matt

"No worries, Seven. I think we were just leaving anyway, weren't we?"

"Definitely," said Kate, unable to take her eyes off of him.

Tim started to lead her away, pausing briefly to tousle Julie's hair. It was dumb, he knew, but he just couldn't resist the urge to touch her, even if it was more like a friend or an annoying older brother.

Kate giggled and leaned against him as he put his arm around her. This would be much less complicated. He stole a glance back at Julie, who was watching him leave, the expression on her face unreadable.

_Much less complicated_, he repeated to himself, as Kate slipped her hand into his back pocket.

------------------------------------------

_A Wednesday in early October_

When Tim arrived at Mrs. Taylor's office, he was surprised to see Coach leaning against the windowsill, his arms folded and his jaw working overtime. Mrs. Taylor was sitting at her desk and had a file opened in front of her.

"Have a seat, son," said Coach, nodding toward one of the uncomfortable chairs against the wall.

Tim sat down, uncertain and a bit apprehensive. He figured he was in trouble, but he hadn't realized it warranted the attention of both Taylors. This was a new record, even for him.

"So, Tim, midterm grades are in and I'm disappointed to tell you that you didn't do very well."

Tim sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Did I at least do well enough to pass?"

"Yes, but you're just barely. Now, I've had a word with your teachers and they said that you often don't turn in homework, you don't go to class and that, in general, you don't seem to be taking this very seriously."

Tim didn't hear a question in there, so he kept his mouth shut and his eyes on a cracked tile in the middle of the floor.

"This isn't any good. You know the rule – no pass, no play. Now, I can't be worried that you're going to fail a test and all of the sudden, I don't have my best running back any more," said Coach.

"Yes, sir. I'll try harder," said Tim, hoping he could find the right combination of words to get out of the room as quickly as possible.

"Oh, too right you will," said Coach.

"As your academic advisor, I have to tell you, I'm worried about you and your plans for the future. Are you considering college at all?" asked Tami.

Tim shook his head. "Haven't really thought that far ahead, ma'am."

"Well, Tim, you need to start thinking about these things. But, for now, the more pressing issue is making sure your pass all your classes."

"Yes, ma'am," said Tim, counting the cracks in the tile.

"I don't know if you know this, but the boosters have set up a little fund to pay for tutoring for football players."

Tim shook his head and Mrs. Taylor looked at Coach, who shrugged. "I posted the flyers and made the announcements, Tami."

"As I was saying, there's this fund and although a lot of it has already been allocated and most of the tutors are already engaged in assignments, we were able to find someone who's been looking for another part-time job and will be able to assist you."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Tim, standing up.

"Sit down, we're not done yet," instructed Mrs. Taylor.

Tim did as he was told and the three of them sat in awkward silence for a minute, before Julie walked into the room tentatively, her shoulders slightly hunched. She looked like she didn't know what to do with her hands as she settled into the chair next to Tim.

"Julie, here, has very kindly and on very short notice, agreed to be your tutor for the remainder of the football season," said Coach, his voice gruff and no-nonsense.

Julie blushed and looked down, refusing to meet Tim's eyes when he looked at her curiously.

"Y'all can work out the details, but at a minimum, Julie will be meeting with you every day to review your homework, make sure it's all done and answer any questions you might have. She also can help you study for tests and can proofread your papers and essays," said Mrs. Taylor, laying out the ground rules.

Tim nodded, but had gone back to looking at the cracked floor tile.

"Tim, let me make on thing perfectly clear," said Mrs. Taylor, pausing until Tim had met her eyes. "Julie's not going to do your work for you and she's not going to tolerate anyone else doing the work for you. Both Coach and I are deadly serious about this."

"Yes, ma'am. I get it."

"Good. Now you two can get out of here and come up with a schedule for meeting." Mrs. Taylor smiled at them, like everything was all decided and perfect.

Tim and Julie left the room quickly and headed toward Tim's locker.

"So, uh, sorry if you felt blind-sided in there, but you didn't answer when I called last night and I couldn't find you this morning," said Julie, as they arrived at his locker.

"Yeah, I don't usually come in on Wednesdays, but Celeste in the office told me to drag myself in," said Tim. Having a rally girl working in the school office had helped get him out of more than one sticky situation.

"Right, well, how about I meet you after football practice on the days I don't have to work. On the days I do have to work, I'll go over to your house on my way home."

"Okay. But how am I going to know which is which?" asked Tim as he collected a few books from his locker.

"I'll tell you each morning. I don't expect you to remember a weekly schedule or anything. Sometimes I don't even know until the night before," said Julie.

"OK, Taylor, we start tomorrow then?"

"No, we start tonight. I'll be over at 9," said Julie before smiling and then walking away.

Tim watched her go, wondering how much studying he was actually going to get done.

------------------------------------------

_A Thursday a few weeks later_

Tim waited impatiently while Julie checked over his math homework. She returned it to him with three problems circled.

"Redo those," she said.

"Aw, c'mon Taylor. That's pretty abrupt. What's the magic word?"

Julie looked at him with narrowed eyes. "_Now_."

Tim grudgingly went back to his math homework, although he couldn't keep the smile off his face. He'd enjoyed his meetings with Julie, especially the ones at his house, where she was able to relax more. They laughed and had a good time together, which was more than he could say for him and Lyla right now.

Lyla.....It had started with such promise. Six weeks of mind-blowing sex and sweet days spent together. But it had faltered when they returned to school and Lyla became bossy and difficult. She dressed him in stupid clothes and dragged him to that disastrous lunch with her father and the McCoys. She wouldn't shut up about college. She was annoyed that Julie was getting paid to tutor him when she would have happily done it for free if he'd only asked her.

Tim shook his head, looked down at his math homework and tried to focus. He erased the wrong answers and started over, frequently pausing to check formulas in the textbook.

"Done," he said, and handed the paper back to Julie. She was curled up at the other end of the couch, frowning at a small, leather-bound book.

She looked over the paper, nodding slowly. She smiled and handed it back to him.

"Good. How about your English homework? You got that done yet?"

"It's just some reading. I'll do it. I promise."

Julie looked at him but didn't say anything. He sighed and got up from the couch to retrieve his backpack from his room. He rifled through it, finally fishing out his battered paperback copy of _Hamlet. _

"Don't look at me like that. I'm reading," said Tim, opening the book. His eyes glazed over in about 30 second. All that old language in small print – it was enough to give a guy a migraine.

The phone rang and he picked up the cordless without thinking. Mistake: it was Lyla. They had a terse conversation that essentially consisted of him saying he'd call her back later and her asking him if Julie was there.

He lied, more out of habit than spite, and promised, as sincerely as he knew how, that he'd call her back after he finished his homework. He jabbed the button to disconnect the call and dropped the phone on the couch.

"Trouble with Lyla?" asked Julie without looking up from her book.

"Not really any more than usual," replied Tim. He returned to _Hamlet_ and soon found that he'd read the same page three times without having a single word soak into his thick skull.

"Whatcha workin' on, Taylor," he asked.

"Nothing, really. Not school work at least.....Hey, you're a guy, right?" she asked, as though she'd just realized it that moment.

"Yeah, last I checked," said Tim.

"Okay, good, because I need a guy's opinion," said Julie, sitting up straighter and looking at Tim hopefully.

"All right, shoot."

"OK, so you know how Matt and I have been hanging out more and sort of sliding towards getting back together?"

Tim nodded. He's seen them around school and out a few times, but it's not like he and Julie or Seven talked about these things.

"Well, I've been trying to find a sweet, romantic, memorable way to tell him that I absolutely want to be back together with him. Lois agrees that a poem would be perfect, but the trouble is finding the right poem. I think I've found the perfect one, but I'm not 100% sure. Will you tell me what you think?" she asked, sliding the book across the couch to him.

He shook his head and slid it back to her. "You read it. That's how poems are supposed to be read, after all. Out loud."

Julie grumbled but picked up the book. She pulled the built-in ribbon bookmark and found her place.

"Okay, so this is by Robert Desnos and it's called 'I Have Dreamed of You So Much.'"

Julie bent her head, blonde hair swinging forward to curtain her face. Tim closed his eyes and stretched his arm along the back of the couch, his hand close enough to touch her.

She cleared her throat and began to read in a quiet, clear voice:

_I have dreamed of you so much that you are no longer real.  
Is there still time for me to reach your breathing body, to kiss your mouth and make  
your dear voice come alive again?_

I have dreamed of you so much that my arms, grown used to being crossed on my  
chest as I hugged your shadow, would perhaps not bend to the shape of your body.  
For faced with the real form of what has haunted me and governed me for so many  
days and years, I would surely become a shadow.

O scales of feeling.

I have dreamed of you so much that surely there is no more time for me to wake up.  
I sleep on my feet prey to all the forms of life and love, and you, the only one who  
counts for me today, I can no more touch your face and lips than touch the lips and  
face of some passerby.

I have dreamed of you so much, have walked so much, talked so much, slept so much  
with your phantom, that perhaps the only thing left for me is to become a phantom  
among phantoms, a shadow a hundred times more shadow than the shadow that  
moves and goes on moving, brightly, over the sundial of your life.  


When Tim opened his eyes, he found Julie looking at him expectantly.

"Well?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Look, Taylor, if you really want to tell him how you feel.....well, you know what they say....actions speak louder than words. Just kiss him already," said Tim, his voice a low rumble. He found that it sort of hurt to say the words, because it forced him to picture Julie and Matt together.

"But wouldn't it be romantic and memorable to tell him my way?" she asked.

"Poetry's nice and all, really it is.....and that poem is real nice. It's just...well, it's not exactly obvious."

"Tim, it's a love poem, I think it's plenty obvious," said Julie, exasperated.

"Hey, don't go gettin' mad at me. You wanted my opinion, as a guy. Guys have enough trouble understanding what girls want and what they mean when they're speaking plain old regular English. You go reading poetry and you're just going to muddy the waters."

"Muddy the waters?" repeated Julie incredulously, her cheeks beginning to flush.

"Taylor, make it obvious. And seriously, for Seven, the more obvious, the better."

"Are you calling him dumb?"

Tim shook his head. "No. I don't get to call anyone dumb. That whole pot-kettle thing you're so fond of. According to Billy, I got a Ph.D in Stupid."

Julie sighed. When she spoke, her voice was soft and earnest. "Tim, you're not stupid. I know people have been telling you that your whole life, but you're not."

"I'm not?" asked Tim.

Julie shook her head, but before Tim could feel good about it, she continued her thought. "No, you're not stupid. But you are lazy."

"Thanks, Taylor. That's so much nicer than calling me dumb. I feel so much better now."

"You want to know the difference between lazy and for-real, low-IQ, rock-bottom stupid?" asked Julie.

"Sure," he said, leaning back to look at her.

"You can do something about lazy, change it, if you want to. But not if you're too busy believing you're stupid."

"You trying to change me now, too, Taylor?" asked Tim. He got up, walked over to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He sat down on the couch, popped the cap off and tossed it on the ground hard, so it bounced and skittered across the slate floor.

"No. I'm just trying to get you to see that you have options."

"What? College? I'm barely going to graduate high school and I've hated every minute I've spent in class." Tim was getting so sick of having this argument. With Lyla. With Billy. Now with Julie Taylor, of all people.

"No, I'm not talking about college. I'm talking about learning a trade. Becoming a plumber, an electrician, an auto-mechanic. Or how about a carpenter or a builder? You're good with your hands and you prefer physical activity."

"Is that what you've heard?" said Tim with a smirk that caused Julie's blushing to go into overdrive.

"I'm being serious, Riggins. You should stop by Dillon Tech and see what they have to offer."

"Yeah, I should do that," said Tim, suddenly exhausted.

Julie shrugged. "But you probably won't."

Tim looked over at her. "Nope, you're right. I probably won't."

Julie stood up and started to hurriedly stuff her belongings into her backpack. "Look, I don't want to hang around here and fight with you about something that's pointless. If you want to float along, letting life happen to you, that's your problem."

He watched her for a minute, trying to figure out the words that would make her stay. When nothing came to him, he looked down at the bottle in his hand and started to peel the label off, concentrating on keeping it all in one piece.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow," said Julie before she walked out the front door, closing it firmly behind her.

Tim sighed and turned on the television, settling into the highlight reel that was _SportsCenter._ It wasn't until three beers later that he noticed the leather-bound book wedged in between the arm and the cushion of the couch.

He pulled it open and flipped through the pages: French poetry with both the original French and the English translations. Judging from the notes, underlining and highlighting, Julie had studied the book closely.

Tim read her thoughts. Damn, she had _a lot_ of thoughts about the poems. Maybe more thoughts than he'd had in the last year. He turned the pages slowly, scanning her precise, rounded script.

About three-quarters of the way through the book, he found Baudelaire's "Be Drunk", the poem that had gotten him an A on an English assignment the year before. He spotted his name next to the poem, then the word cœur-brisant, which was underlined three times. Underneath the poem, Julie had written _des mauvaises décisions et une chance encore pire_.

Tim sighed and shook his head. An entire book of thoughts in English and the only thing he really wanted to know was in French. He snapped the book shut and dropped it on the couch, then went to the kitchen for another beer.

------------------------------------------

_The next Monday morning_

Tim meant to return the book to Julie the next day, but it was a game day and his mind was preoccupied with football from the moment his alarm went off until well after the game was finished. He'd driven past her house on Saturday afternoon, the book sitting on the seat next to him, but the place had looked deserted and he hadn't bothered to stop.

On Monday morning, Tim walked toward Julie's locker, carrying the book. He was debating asking her what the words she'd written by his poem meant. The only other person Tim knew who took French was Lyla and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask her. If she was even talking to him anyway. He wasn't real clear on their status at the moment.

Tim rounded the corner by Julie's locker and saw her kissing Matt. He nearly turned right back around, except they'd broken off the kiss and Seven had spotted him, waving him over cheerily.

"Hey, Riggins. You have a good weekend?" asked Matt.

Tim shrugged. "Yeah, sure. How about you two?"

"Oh, y-y-y-yeah, we uh," stammered Matt, looking at Julie like she was the only other person on earth.

"Just went to the lake," said Julie, her tone dazed and her eyes on Matt. She smiled sweetly at Matt and put her hand on his arm. Tim suddenly knew, with absolute and blinding clarity, that not only were Julie and Matt back together, Matt had been her first. Probably that very weekend, at the lake.

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to give this back to you," said Tim as he handed her the book and tried not to flinch when her soft, warm hand brushed his wrist.

"Oh yeah....And, uh, thanks for your help on that problem I had. You were right," said Julie, waiting until the last second to look Tim in the eye.

Tim jammed his hands in his jeans pockets. "Sure, you know what they say, Taylor. Even a blind squirrel finds nuts once in a while."

Matt laughed, the love-struck grin still on his face. Tim slapped him on the back and walked away.

_No regrets_, he reminded himself. _You don't need that kind of complication. _Besides, he could always dream.


End file.
